Up before 5; out at half past on the bike up ot hers for 6. In and grab the packs and off out to the station.
0652 to Carlisle; change and onto the Leeds train going down the Carlisle - Settle line which dropped us at Kirkby Stephen around 0930. A brighter day than anticipated, but you could see the lying water in the Eden valley; flooded fields and swollen rivers. Squelching moorland ahoy!

We got off the train and checked bus times to see if we could dodge the mile and a half into town but no; the 0930 bus only runs on a Thursday. 

So we set off and instantly the rain started; I say rain - borderline sleat! Thankfully it was a mere ten minutes, enough to get wet but with the tail end of Ali blowing through, the wind soon dried us off and we scooted through KS and across the river for the ascent to begin.
Barring a couple of steep sections, the steady climb past the quarry to open moorland was not too punishing, a bumper crop of sloes and a couple of other walkers to chat too as we passed them. The wind wound up with altitude (and attitude too) so by the time we'd picked our way across the bogs to Nine Standards, it was quite blustery. Amazing views back north, though.

Onwards to the summit and due south through a boggy mess, nothing but moorland all around, very little flora or fauna, more showers whipping across the exposed hillside.
She did well, and there were the inevitable 'are we lost moments - we eventually found asign that confirmed (to her) we weren't and onwards / downwards we went. We stopped for a bite to eat at the remote / end of the road at Ravenseat before the pale washed ut colours of the moors gave way to the lower lusher greens of the start of Swaledale..
If the first half of the day was all about the roaring of the wind, the second hald was all about the lower more rumbling roar of the river as we then spent the rest of the next 2 days on or around its banks for large chunks of it. 
As we joined back onto the road for the final couple of miles intot Keld, I had a wistful look over my shoulder at the twisting dipping road and wondered about coming back with a bike at some point....

But onwards to Keld and the berries and hedge rows glistened with colour; rowans, rosehips, hawthorn and a bumoer crop of sloes; and from wide open spaces to the trademark dry stone dykes and green green fields, a million huts and sheds - a dyslexic morse code pattern of dots and lines all around. 
And so to the twee. Actually Keld was good; a cuppa and cake and a sit down; a chat with a cyclist who proclaimed he'd first done Coast to Coast 41 years ago. As she said 'I had just started primary school then..'

Decision time - river or moor? We wanted the moor but 10 more miles of hard graft; at gone 3pm and the prospect of a squelchfest or play it safe and get to our destination in daylight. The sensible decision won out so off down the river bank we did go. The imrpoving day forecast proved correct and layers were removed as we clattered merrily downwards, the threat of autumn colour in the trees not quite realised; and away for the most part from civilisation there was plenty birdsong to counterpoint the river's low monotone bassline. But still 10 or so miles lugging full kit was not straightforward and after picking our way through a couple of sweet little villages and hamlets, squeezing through a million stiles and gates, we rolled up after 7 at our intended campsite just shy of Heaslaugh.

The tent went up before darkness fell and we cooked dinner as the moon rose over the southern hills, so we extinguished the torch and sipped wine as the stars became more prominent. A shade over 40km and not quite a Munro in climbing, we settled into Pensioner's Tent to cuddle up against the cold.

'She' took on the CMC role today; striding off ahead whilst I struggled to keep the pace, yo-yoing off the back for long stretches